


come clean, go with the wind

by FourMoonsWatching



Series: for you i'd give the world, and you know it [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: A whole lot of crying, Ambitious Roy Mustang, An Even Littler Smut, Angst, Canon Suicidal Characters, Comfort Sex, Crying During Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Riza Hawkeye Cries, Roy Mustang Cries, Suicidal Riza Hawkeye, Suicidal Roy Mustang, Suicidal Thoughts, This Fic Is Basically Just Roy And Riza Bonding Over Being Suicidal, Vaginal Sex, Writing This Felt Like Being Stabbed, a little fluff, references to past suicide attempts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29192403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourMoonsWatching/pseuds/FourMoonsWatching
Summary: A night of mourning, for what could have been.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: for you i'd give the world, and you know it [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116149
Kudos: 35





	come clean, go with the wind

Riza pours two cups of tea as Roy closes the apartment door behind him. "You wanted to discuss something in private?"

Roy nods solemnly and sits down heavily on the couch. "We need to talk."

Riza's brow furrows. "I take it something's wrong."

"Earlier today, you said you'd follow me into hell if I wanted you to." Roy picks up his teacup, but he doesn't sip from it yet, just stares into the dark liquid. "How literally did you mean that?"

"I don't understand what you're getting at, sir-"

Roy cuts her off. "Don't "sir" me right now. Please. Alone with you, I want to be Roy, not Colonel Mustang."

Riza nods. "Alright, Roy." His first name feels odd on her tongue - she hasn't called him that since Ishval - but she could definitely get used to it. It sounds nice.

"As for what I mean… I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do."

Riza sits beside him and picks up her own cup of tea. "Go on."

Roy sips his tea, then returns to staring into it thoughtfully. "You know about my ambitions, but there's more." He heaves a resigned sigh. "The military runs things around here. Parliament's just a set of figureheads. That's not right. I want to completely change the balance of power."

Riza blinks, confused. "Did you think I'd disagree?"

"No, that's not all." Roy takes a deep breath. "When I'm happy with the way the country's run… I'm putting everyone who was part of the Ishval genocide on trial for war crimes."

She's about to say something about that being entirely fair when he goes on: "I mean everyone, Riza. All the state alchemists. All our friends from the army. Myself. You.  _ Everyone _ ."

Oh.

"I don't want to pretend this project is anything but what it is," he continues, "and I completely understand if you can't support me anymore. It takes a special kind of madness to sign your own death warrant and your lover's in one fell swoop. I don't want to rope you into going along with a madman's schemes."

Riza is silent for a moment, thinking things over. Cups Roy's cheek in her hand in what she hopes is a soothing gesture. Then, some pieces click together in her mind, and before she knows it, she's laughing.

It's fitful, broken laughter, but it's still laughter. Not because anything's funny - she's laughing from sheer relief. Her heart feels light as a feather and fit to burst.

Roy quirks an eyebrow. "I don't know what reaction I was expecting, but it wasn't that."

"No - no, it's just-" Riza forcibly pulls herself together. "Roy, this is perfect."

"How is anything about this perfect?"

"I don't have enough lives to give to make up for all the killing I've done. And I've wondered for ages whether my life or my death would come closer to a real atonement. But now you've told me about your plan, I feel like I've been given a second chance." Riza can feel tears welling in her eyes; she's not sure if they're from sorrow or joy. "This way, I can give them both. It still won't be enough. It's nowhere near enough. But it's the best I can do by a long shot, and I'm so grateful to have this chance."

"Riza," Roy says, and those four letters hold a thousand words.  _ I'm so glad I'll have you by my side until the end. I'm so sorry I'm putting you through this. I'm so sorry you fell in love with such a broken man. _

The welter of emotions storming in Riza's heart spills over, and the tears caught in her lashes start to fall.

Roy leans forwards, letting her hand slide off his cheek and land on his shoulder, and kisses away her tears, gentle and patient in a way he rarely gets the chance to be in public. "I want to be clear about one thing.  _ I love you _ , Riza. My feelings are real. They have nothing to do with the plan." He punctuates the affirmation with a kiss to her lips, chaste and soothing yet full of hidden fire.

"I have something to confess too, Roy," Riza begins, her voice hushed and ragged. "The day the Rockbells died, I was stationed near their clinic. I wanted to intervene somehow, but there were so many people I couldn't line up a shot without risking the patients." Her voice is suddenly very small. "And I know what you tried doing when you saw what happened."

Unbidden, the image of Roy with a gun to his head flashes before her eyes, and she grips his shoulder tight. She remembers the heft of her own pistol in her hand, the cool metal pressed to her brow.

A flicker of understanding passes between them.

The next thing Riza knows, they're hugging each other tightly, both crying quietly (they're too used to crying quietly), lamenting what could have been. If the country was different. If Roy hadn't joined the army. If the war hadn't turned to a massacre. If something, anything, had gone differently and they could've just fallen in love like anyone else.

If they weren't all too familiar with cold steel to their heads, pressed there by their own shaking hands.

"Roy," she whispers.

"Riza," he whispers back.

The same thing is embedded in both of their names.  _ Make love to me. Take away the pain and sorrow for a little while. _

They stand up and make for the bedroom, hand in hand, leaving their forgotten teacups to cool.

When they're undressed and lounging on Riza's bed side by side, she breaks the silence. "Can you spoon me?"

Roy nods, smiles wryly, and rolls over on his side. "Sounds like just what we need right now."

Riza turns to face away from Roy and slides over to press her scarred back to his chest. He wraps his arms around her and hooks his chin over her shoulder, and her hands move down to line them up.

At her nod, he rocks his hips forwards and slides home.

For a while, they just lie like that, warm and comfortable. A proper cuddle is a rare treat for them, and the fullness of Roy inside her just makes everything better for Riza. No doubt he feels the same about her warmth around him.

Roy pulls a blanket over them, and the slight motion reminds Riza what they were planning on doing. She shifts her weight just a bit, setting a slow rhythm. Roy picks it up, his motions gentle, not so much thrusting as rocking.

His hands caress her cheeks, neck, shoulders; she snuggles back into his embrace and runs worshipful fingers over his arms. Silent, bittersweet tears fall to the pillow and mingle there. They speak a language of touches, one that doesn't translate well into words.

Like this, Riza's closer to happy than she's been in years. She's curled up in the arms of the man she loves, him nestled comfortably inside her as they shower each other in affection.

She can almost, almost forget that he's also the man she'll follow into death. That their relationship is fundamentally doomed, because  _ they're _ doomed. That their lives will always return to pain and sorrow.

Still. She'll take what she can get.


End file.
